CHAPTER LXII.
THE ACE OF HEARTS.
"So you are going to London — to-morrow, is not it?"
said Captain Lake, when on the green of Gylingden,
where visitors were promenading, and the militia bands
playing lusty polkas, he met Mr. Jos Larkin, in lavender
trousers and kid gloves, new hat, metropolitan black,
frock-coat, and shining French boots — the most elegant
as well as the most Christian of provincial attorneys.
"Ah, yes—I think — should my engagements permit
— of starting early to-morrow. The fact is, Captain
Lake, our poor friend the Vicar, you know, the Rev.
William Wylder, has pressing occasion for some money,
and I can't leave him absolutely in the hands of Burling-
ton and Smith."
"No, of course — quite so," said Lake, with that sly
smile which made every fellow on whom it lighted somehow
fancy that the Captain had divined his secret. "Very
honest fellows, with good looking after — eh?"
The attorney laughed a little awkwardly, with his pretty
pink blush over his long face.
"Well, I'm far from saying that, but it is their business,
ou know, to take care of their client; and it would not
do to. give them the handling of mine. Can I do any-
thing, Captain Lake, for you while in town?"
"Nothing on earth, thank you very much. But I
am thinking of doing something for you. You've inter-
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